Hannah returned to her spot at the table to find their plates gone, as well as the pot of broccoli. Travis stuck the plates in the sink using one of the forks to help himself to more of his cooking. Hannah grimaced at the thought of that fork being hers. Travis smacked his lips. "He sure didn't stay long," he said mouth full. "Pity, I had so much to discuss. He seems real quiet on the outside but I bet he's a great conversationalist. He's one of those..." Travis licked the fork as he tried to think of the potentially imaginary word. "Well, you know. You give them something they know all about and they're off like a wrinkle under heat."

Hannah frowned as the broccoli vanished before her eyes. "I was still hungry, Travis," she said. He hardly looked up.

"Hmm?"

"I said I'm still hungry."

"So? Get something from the fridge. You can feed yourself, with all this talk of being a grown up..." The pot was set in the sink and left to soak. Hannah had taken a spot by the refrigerator and opened it. There was a pitcher of water on the top shelf, the bottom nearly empty save for a grocery bag of rotten fruits. She slammed it closed.

"Ain't much," she muttered. "Did you remember to buy groceries?" Travis was already on the couch by the fire, poking it with the necessary instrument. Sparks scattered and ashes threatened his vision. He set the poker down.

"I bought the broccoli, didn't I?"

"That's not enough-"

"And the cheese sauce."

"Which you ate most of, I didn't even-"

"Why didn't you ask for more then?" Travis asked, glaring at her. "What am I, your mother? Feeding you like you're five...and Malcolm was a guest in this home, I was trying to be polite so before you start ranting about the unfairness of it all..."

"You don't let me shop for food, and now you're not doing it either," Hannah said. "Quit taking my money for your bills and debts, and let me shop for once, let me get the food." The man didn't answer her. Just sat himself on the couch staring at the cigar pack he left on the coffee table. "I can get some for the whole week, enough for both of us."

"You think you can handle a responsibility like that?" he asked. "You can't even speak up at the dinner table, and you want to go downtown? Writing it out on paper isn't going to work for them." Hannah clenched her hands again, digging her nails into her palm. Counting never helped manage her anger so she thought a slight ounce of pain would snap her out of it. "You think money grows on trees? Nearly lost a few hundred today."

"That was your fault!" she yelled. "You're the one wasting your money, our money just to satisfy your idea of fun, I just want to eat something!"

"I don't want you to eat too much," he said. "You eat too much an' soon you don't have the energy to work anymore. Remember the hogs?" Hannah's face grew hot. "Ended a scam anyway but it's no less truth. And you're shy as hell-"

"I can do it," she finally said. Her hands relaxed, though they hurt like hell. "What about the bonus you got? That can go toward food, and I have some from my paintings a few months ago saved up...my writing-"

"Spend all the money you want," he interrupted. "If it gets you to shut up then go ahead and do it. Real shame Malcolm left, he doesn't talk nearly as much as you do. Or, complain at least." A log in the fire fell sending sparks everywhere. "Knows more about business too, can appreciate the value of money."

"Should I go tomorrow?" Hannah asked fighting back angry tears. He didn't care about them if he noticed. "Or does that interfere with your schedules somehow?"

"Go ahead," he said watching the fire. His voice lowered. "I was in such a good mood. I hate being taken out of my good mood."

Hannah backed away from him, eyes widened when he saw him reach for the box of cigars on the coffee table. She held her arms together, protecting them. They began to hurt. His hand picked it up slowly as if there was weight to it. Hannah knew it was new; she'd seen him buy it in Amsterdam. He didn't open it, but simply held it there like a treasure more valuable than his own kin. Setting it down, Hannah released a hidden breath and waited. He shooed her off. "I ran out of matches a while ago."

Her work room door closed and she leaned back against it finally letting the tears fall. Her sweater sleeves soaked them up but couldn't catch them all. They were hot tears, silly tears, ones conducted by hurt feelings, and she hated it. The door pressed against her back, against her spine. She stood up and paced the room, her arms crossed over herself. His eyes hadn't been visible from her point in the room but she knew there was a fire to them, the only one he could light at the moment. Travis was right, she wasn't a baby. She could take care of herself, what was she thinking?

She was hungry, that's all.

Her clothes were hung up in the closet, some scattered on a nearby chair. They wouldn't be difficult to pack. She knew there was a suitcase under her bed. She put it there. Sneaking by him would be difficult enough and finding a place to stay would be even harder. Her first thought was Angus and Malcolm, then simply Malcolm as she knew Sherrie was already keeping Angus company. Surely just for a few days...until they left for Australia again.

Dull in the dark, her ring came into view. It was pretty, but that's all it was. Expensive, if you wanted more. Her mother thought it was a splendid idea at the time. Wearing it would strengthen the promise between the women as would it keep lustful men off her. Knowing rings meant nothing to some of those men, and the fact that she couldn't stand living with Travis she thought the ring was useless. She removed it.

This was her only home. Her passion of art, writing, and music filled her soul with peace but it didn't fill her stomach with food. That money was taken and used as debt payments and bets, and just enough food to keep Travis happy. Hardly enough for her, but all she had. Staying with her friends would give her a sanctuary even if it was only temporary. Surely they'd understand, but she knew their situation as well and wouldn't want to give them another mouth to feed.

Her mother's face came to mind. The face she made when she heard Angus had bought her an album, or when he asked her to the dance was the same face she made when Hannah quit school. Disappointment. Throwing the ring under the bed in place of the suitcase would give her another one. A worse one. Hannah could at least do one thing right in her mother's eyes, such as keeping her promise.

It hurt, but she put the ring back on.

Her stomach rumbled as she looked at the mess of projects in front of her. Everything was blurry. A pencil had rolled off the desk that morning once sitting next to a sheet of paper half filled. Her colored smock was hanging on the bed post where she threw it in her hurry. Sketches and canvases covered three corners of the room. The fourth, was taken up by a very small piano.

She sat down at it and lightly touched the keys. Her housemate couldn't stand the way she played, as she hardly ever followed sheet music. Her fingers played what they wanted and more or less a song came from it. He hated it, but he couldn't hear it with the door closed. So she began to play.

A bit out of tune and a tad odd sounding. She loved it. Each note bounced off the next in the most amateur pattern. But she loved it. Her tears fell less and less, and a smile came through to replace them. A few minor keys were added to the score. She laughed to herself though she hardly knew why.

Picking up a canvas from the carpet and a charcoal stick from a drawer she began to sketch. It started off as a sailboat, then turned into a fat dragon. Its tongue stuck out in the silliest way and she set it aside to paint over later. She picked up another one and drew a flower. She drew five flowers. Another one had a lock and key. She signed her name at the bottom of that one and put it down to draw a detailed apple on another. Returning to the piano, she continued her song and the tears stopped flowing altogether.

The pencil was removed from the carpet. Once again it lay next to the paper half filled with sentences about whatever came to her mind. She had been nervous all day that the press people wouldn't like it. And while the nervousness didn't bid farewell, she pushed the feeling in the back of her mind.

She sat down at the desk and had another crack at it. The words didn't come so freely as they had that morning before she was called to join her friends. Her smile grew. Those boys filled what seemed like the other half of her happiness, while the first half was being attended to at the moment. Before long the pencil started moving and the words came after it. Like the music from the piano keys came the ideas to the paper and it was filled front and back. She would edit it tomorrow, for she had grown suddenly sleepy from her minutes of work. Her clock on the wall read three hours later...hours?

It hadn't felt like it, she had fun.

Travis' footprints embedded deep in her skin were ugly to look at, but he couldn't ever step on her heart, or her brain, or her love for her two friends. She wouldn't let anyone. Her eyes felt crusted over from crying and she grabbed a tissue to wipe any remaining fluids off her face. She felt a sense of accomplishment, one that didn't need to come from approval of another person. Not that Travis gave her any in the first place. The room was in an even bigger mess than it was three hours ago and she was proud of it. Hunger still racked her stomach and she was sure to feel faint in the morning, but her happiness didn't leave.

She heard footsteps coming down the hall. They reached her bedroom door and she froze. Maybe there were matches in the bathroom...maybe the piano had broken through the walls... Neither person on either side of the door moved, and the footsteps finally faded away to the bedroom at the end of the hall. The only one in the house. Hannah refused to take it, and Travis refused to give it up.

Her bed was crafted with pillows stacked together on a sleeping bag with blankets to top it off. She hurried to it when the door at the end of the hall opened and she buried herself under the covers. Figuring the man might return to check on her, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. Sleep didn't come easy, it never did. But especially on nights like this when ideas roaming her mind had yet to be fulfilled. She tossed and turned all night. The good news was Travis never came back.

Angus finally stood up on the fourth knock on his door. Noodles filled his mouth and a tomato sauce stain occupied his shirt making him quite the picture. Malcolm thought the exact thing when he opened the door. "You look good, Ang."

"Can't a man eat?" Angus let his brother come inside the room and they both stood there staring at each other. Angus swallowed his noodles. "What are you doing here, you were supposed to stay with Hannah."

"I was with her, but I left a bit early-"

"Is she okay?" Malcolm smiled at Angus' tone. It quickly vanished.

"She's fine, Travis kept a good mood the whole time." He shifted in his spot putting his hands in his pockets. "Kind of freaked me out a bit, to tell the truth."

"I know what you mean," Angus mumbled. He looked at his dinner on the table. "Come on, I'm hungry." Malcolm followed him to the table and took a seat across from him, watching Angus finish his meal. "So what are you doin' here? Your bed not dry yet?"

"Can it, Ang. I tried to go back to my room but..." Malcolm looked around the room especially around the refrigerator. "You got any water, Ang?"

"There's some in the fridge-" Angus had hardly finished when Malcolm stood up from the table and ripped the door open, grabbing a pitcher. Angus watched him open the cupboards and scrounge for a cup, knocking them all over the floor in his haste. "There a fire in your room?"

Malcolm chugged the glass down and filled it up again. He cleaned up his trail of ransacking and joined Angus at the table. If he wasn't thirsty, he couldn't drink. "Sink water was gross," he mumbled.

"Hotel water...couldn't get any better, eh?"

"Yeah..." He took another drink. "Where's Sherrie?"

Angus nodded toward the note on the counter, Malcolm not bothering to get up and read it. He looked at Angus with a confused look. "She got dinner in town somewhere. Was gone when I got back." His dinner didn't taste so good anymore. "I made a mistake, Mal, I should have-" He sighed. "I should have-" Malcolm stayed quiet. Angus set his fork down. "I've made a mistake."

"Which was?" Malcolm asked. Angus winced.

"Don't make me say it."

"I know you wanted to check on your beloved," Malcolm said. "but you've seen Travis more than I have, you've seen his bad moods more, why did you leave if you had a bad feeling?"

"I said don't make me say it." Someone was walking down the hall, a chain rattling. "Should I have stayed?"

"What do you think?" Angus rubbed his temple. "Hannah would have liked your company."

"Would have enjoyed hers. And what about you, you left?"

Malcolm rubbed his hands. "Like I said, he freaked me out. I guess I chickened out on her but..." Angus smiled.

"Looks like we're both stupid." Malcolm finished his drink and felt full, the idea of a whiskey not sitting well. His plan worked. "Did she seem fine when you left? No fear or..." Angus hated to finish the sentence.

"We gotta get her away from him," Malcolm said shaking his head. "If there is any chance of fear on her face to begin with she can't stay with him. Can't imagine the kinds of things he says to her when we're gone..."

"What do we do, jus' take her to Australia with us makin' her leave her life an' career behind?" Angus asked. "Can't ask her to do that, couldn't ever ask her to do that."

"I couldn't either."

"Call the cops on this guy? We don't really have much evidence of him gettin' after her, not even sure if it's illegal."

"I don't know, I don't know." Malcolm stood from the table to wash his glass and stick it back in the cupboard. "Just-figure somethin' out I guess."

Angus kept quiet. He wore two things on his face: tomato sauce and guilt. He picked up a napkin, almost disappointed there wasn't a name scribbled on the bottom. "I made a mistake, Mal," he finally said.

"We both did," he answered. "Travis made the worst one."

Angus stared at the middle of the table, then the floor, then the window. "So...you come here to mooch off my water too?"

"Had to talk. Can't talk about a man when he's next to ya', can ya'?" He made for the door. "Guess I'd better get out of here, don't want to be here when Sherrie comes back-she is comin' back, right?"

"'Round midnight," Angus said. He stopped eating with a few bites left. "She might be mad at me. We both are."

"Does she yell at you?"

"Jus' gets annoyed, but...I can manage. I'll put up with it...for her."

"Better leave before the fireworks...good luck," Malcolm said before leaving the room to find his own. The crumpled napkin dropped to his plate and he pushed his plate away. The footsteps and chain came back this time going the opposite way. Angus didn't think pets were allowed there. But if Travis could walk through it freely though he had yet to try...he thought Travis deserved the chain more than the dog did anyway.